


The Desk

by Ceeahrr



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceeahrr/pseuds/Ceeahrr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erica has made partner in a high profile Melbourne law firm; Franky is in a relationship with Bridget and starting her second year of law school. Bridget has her own private practice and an office downtown. Franky and Erica cross paths unexpectedly in Bridget's office.</p><p>Thanks to Slaslars for the prompt of Franky and Erica having sex on Bridget's desk, making me go down the rabbit hole of 'how in the world could that actually happen?'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Desk

Erica scrolled through the Melbourne Association of Psychologists website looking for someone to interview. Three years out from the debacle at Wentworth, she was managing partner at a high profile law firm. Her current caseload included a very public divorce between two local film stars. Her firm was representing the husband.  
  
He claimed that his wife had undiagnosed Multiple Personality Disorder, or MPD. She allegedly refused to seek professional support. Erica was well acquainted with the woman’s films and some of her more notorious public spin-outs. But if she was MPD, you couldn’t tell from her public persona.  
  
_Wait. Why am I spending time doing this research? Way above your pay grade, Erica. Delegate, you dork._ She phoned one of the first year associates to pass off the task then sat quietly, trying to ignore the reason she was so distracted.  
  
She looked at her computer screen again. The face there was pleasant, attractive even. But the reason Erica Davidson had stopped on Dr. Bridget Westfall’s profile was for one reason only. Her bio included mention of time spent working with inmates at Wentworth. And that sent Erica down a rabbit hole, which she visited more often than she’d like to admit, of thinking about Franky Doyle.  
  
_She ought to be out on parole by now._ Erica resisted the urge to google her former charge. She would do it when she got home, but not on the firm’s computer. She sat back in her chair trying to resist the manic looping reel of Franky kissing her, of kissing Franky back. After three years, the girl still haunted her dreams. She shivered as the sensory memory of Franky’s touch rippled across her skin and she stood up determined to find something to to do that would prevent the emotional slide into remorse that often followed close on the heels of thinking about Franky Doyle.  
  
Remorse for slotting the younger woman for five weeks when she didn’t deserve it. Remorse for winding her up by provoking her with the engagement ring. Remorse for knowing her trigger points and leaving the governor position abruptly with no explanation. Remorse for not reaching out to her at some point to explain. The only thing she didn’t regret about that final day at the prison was kissing Franky back.  
  
That kiss had changed her life. Forced Erica to be honest about herself, her sexuality, and to finally end the ridiculously long engagement to Mark Pearson before she made the biggest mistake of her life by marrying him. And now she was in a fairly satisfying relationship with a woman — a senior constable with Melbourne Tactical Response. The sex was good, they had a lot to talk about, and enjoyed an occasional weekend away together. All because of Franky’s kiss. She decided to focus on that: her girlfriend. Sasha McPherson. Sash was gorgeous, athletic, and stayed on the right side of the law. Not like an angry, volatile, violent, brash, beautiful, green-eyed, charming, hopefully ex-con she used to know.  
  
She started toward the firm’s library, then went back to her computer and emailed the page to her associate with a directive to secure an appointment with Dr. Westfall. Then she went to the library to look for divorce case law that referenced MPD.  
  
  
*****************************  
  
“I’m sorry, babe. You can take transit home, yeah?” Bridget called back over her shoulder as she exited her office at high speed. Franky had come to pick her up but a patient had called in dire straights and she had to meet her at hospital stat.  
  
“Sure,” Franky stopped to fix her trouser cuffs, still in Gidge’s office. She had tucked them into her ankle boots before coming to pick her girlfriend up on her badass Moto Guzzi. The bike was a gift from her awesome partner for successfully acing her first year of law school. But since Gidge was taking the bike now, Franky didn’t need to stroll around with her cuffs tucked in.  
  
“Ah… damn! So sorry!” Franky heard Gidget say to someone in the hall. “I have to cancel — I have a patient in severe distress and need to meet her now.”  
  
Franky exited the office letting the door close behind her. It locked automatically. She looked to see who Gidge was talking to.  
  
Bridget continued. “We’ll have to reschedule. I really do apologize.” She turned and looked at Franky, dug in her handbag and tossed her a set of keys. “Franky, would you go back in, get one of my business cards for Ms. Davidson?” She turned back to Erica, who had a very strange expression on her face. “It has my mobile number. Call or text and let me know another time this week that will work for you. I’ll try to make it work on my end.” Then she left the building.  
  
Franky stood still, her fist in the air. Gidget’s toss had been a little high and wide to the right. Her hand remained frozen where she’d caught the keys.  
  
Erica tried very hard not to fall over.  
  
Slowly, as her brain kicked back into function, Franky smiled the dazzling smile that she knew Erica couldn’t resist. _What the fuck?! And who cares? Damn, still hot as ever, Erica._ “Hello Miss Davidson,” she drawled.  
  
Erica couldn’t help but smile back despite the hot ball of tense emotion that erupted in her chest and belly. Franky was still dashingly gorgeous, her eyes twinkling. “Franky,” she tried to sound composed when she was anything but. “You look…” _good enough to eat…_ “ahhh, really good.” Franky laughed. Erica blushed. “How are you?”  
  
Franky pocketed the keys and walked the corridor toward the former governor until they were barely a meter apart. “Right now I’m fucking fantastic.” Franky eyed Erica from head to toe. “And you, Erica, are even hotter than I remember.” Franky couldn’t help it where Erica was concerned. Flirting with one another had been part of their rapport. Until it got serious. They still had unfinished business and Franky was determined not to lose sight of Miss Davidson again until they got to the bottom of it.  
  
She reached out, tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind Erica’s ear, then drew one finger along her jaw. The older woman jerked away from the touch. But not before Franky saw the ex-governor’s pupils dilate, heard the sharp intake of breath. _Oh yeah. Definitely unfinished business._  
  
Erica stepped back out of Franky’s reach. “Don’t, Franky,” she scolded. “Don’t start.” She collided with the wall and got a strong sense of deja vu. _Don’t you dare._ She narrowed her eyes, angry. Franky continued to advance on her, reaching out that wicked hand again, this time placing it firmly across her throat. “I said stop it!” She grabbed at Franky’s arm trying to pull it from her skin. It burned where Franky touched her. And she liked it. But fuckall if she was going to let Franky know that 30 seconds after she’d seen her for the first time in three years. Franky was going to have to work for it. If Erica even decided to let anything happen. “Do not do this, Franky Doyle.”  
  
Franky Doyle sure as hell was doing this. If she let Erica get away again she might not see her for another three years. She caught Erica’s hands and held them up over her head against the wall as she pressed her hips in, leaning in to kiss her. Erica turned her head away so Franky kissed the spot at the back of her jaw, just below her ear. The attorney struggled to free her hands effectively mashing their bodies more tightly together.  
  
“I know you like things a little rough, Miss Davidson. You should know by now I’m happy to oblige.” She switched both of Erica’s wrists to one hand and used the other to cup her jaw, making her face forward. She slowly rubbed a thumb across the blonde’s bottom lip. “Remember how much better it is when you kiss me back?” She pushed the thumb between Erica’s lips and her mouth opened slightly in shock. Franky pushed in further, feeling her tongue. Then kissed her. Hard.  
  
And dammit if Franky wasn’t right, Erica managed to think before she couldn’t think at all. Her brain exploded into a thousand points of light as Franky’s tongue aggressively wrestled her own.  She was instantly addicted to the sensation of the younger woman’s tongue sliding against hers, tangling. Franky’s lips were soft like velvet, but still firm and commanding. Then she felt something hot lower down, below her belly. _Fuck_. At some point — time had ceased to make sense (had it been seconds? hours?) — Franky had released her hands which were now tangled in silky brunette locks. Franky’s hands were busy kneading Erica's ass, one thigh busy pressing against the blonde’s now heated and throbbing clit. Erica whimpered.  
  
Franky pulled out of the kiss separating their bodies. Erica wanted to screech with frustration. The former inmate took her hand, interlaced their fingers, pulled her former governor down the corridor back toward Gidge’s office.

“Come on,” she said grinning wickedly, then unlocked the office door pulling Erica in.  
  
The blonde tried to regain some composure by taking a deep breath. “Are you seeing Dr. Westfall, Franky? Working with her?” Erica briefly wondered why a psychologist would give a patient keys. Maybe Franky was working in the office?  
  
“Yes,” Franky dropped the keys back into her pocket, then let her leather jacket fall on the chair across from the receptionist’s desk. “Probably not the way you think, though.”  
  
“I’m just happy that you’re getting the support you ummph,” Franky was kissing her again, pushing her duster off and letting it go to the floor. She wasn’t angry about it at all this time. It would be ridiculous to try to pretend she didn’t want this too. _But seriously. How far is Franky going to take this?_ How far was Erica willing to let her?  
  
Franky walked Erica back into the inner chamber of Gidget’s office, kicking the door closed behind them. If they continued to make out in reception they could easily be seen through the glass door. There were so, so many things she wanted to do to Erica Davidson right now and Franky didn't want to be disturbed. The girl was delicious.  
  
“Fuck Erica,” Franky rasped, blazing a trail of fiery nips down her neck. “Do you know how many times I thought about doing this to you?” She pulled Erica’s blouse from her skirt, quickly unbuttoning it, kissing down to the top of her breasts. She stopped long enough to take in the lacy purple bra covering perfect, full, round… “Oh Jesus,” she breathed, then pressed her tongue against one nub which grew hard instantly. She sucked on it through the lace.  
  
Erica grabbed Franky’s hair trying to pull her mouth away from her breast. She couldn’t believe how completely untethered Franky’s touch made her feel. She was going to come just from Franky sucking her nipple. “Franky,” she moaned. “Wait. Slow down.” She was panting now. She felt something hard against her bum. “Please…”  
  
Franky pulled back looking up at Erica. “You don’t want me to stop, Erica.” She pushed her against Gidget’s desk kissing her lips again, a bit gentler this time seeing how out of sorts Erica was. She wasn’t trying to frighten her to death, and the blonde was clearly out of her element.  
  
Erica couldn’t say what the hell she wanted in that moment. She couldn’t even form a sentence. She didn’t want Franky to stop. But she didn’t want to be taken like a wanton slut in Franky’s therapist’s office either.  
  
“What is it?” Franky asked gently, pressing softer kisses to her neck, her collarbone. “I know you aren’t ready to stop.”  
  
Erica pressed her hands against Franky’s chest. “I don’t know. Can we go back to my place? Talk a little?”  
  
Franky grinned rakishly, pulling Erica’s hands from her chest. She unzipped her slacks and pushed one of Erica’s hands down into her panties. Into her wetness, drawing in a harsh breath, then letting it out. “You take care of that, I’ll go anywhere you want, Miss Davidson.”  
  
Erica moaned, pulling Franky’s head down for another scorching kiss as she slid her hand further down, fingers through the hot slick folds of the younger woman’s sex. Erica had never wanted to pleasure anyone more in her life then she wanted to see Franky crying out from an orgasm she had delivered. Right now. Then she felt her skirt falling from her hips to down around her ankles.  
  
Franky pulled Erica’s hands from her knickers. “But I get to go first.” She easily lifted Erica by the waist and sat her on Gidget’s desk, then sat in the executive chair slowly pulling the panting blonde’s knees apart, staring at the treasure between them. Erica was wet through her panties. “Oh fuck, Erica,” Franky moaned. “You are a very bad girl, holding out on me all these years.” She scooted forward and simultaneously pulled Erica toward her by her hips, lightly kissing the clearly erect clit through the silky fabric.  
  
The attorney wondered briefly if she was actually losing her mind. Some combination of Franky’s voice and… she didn’t know what. She’d been touched like that before. But not by Franky Doyle. And nothing had felt like this before. She was completely out of control, wondering who told her fingers to tangle in the younger woman’s hair, urging her closer to her center. Wondering who told her to lay back while Franky swiftly removed the obstacle knickers, put her thighs over the ex-con’s shoulders, and bow her hips toward Franky’s mouth. Apparently she did want to be taken like a wanton slut in Franky’s doctor’s office.  
  
“Ye… oh god. Franky…. Fuck!” Erica managed to growl between thrusts. Franky was sucking her, then inside, then everywhere and the blonde couldn’t breathe. And then she couldn’t see. And then the most incredible white light exploded behind her eyelids and her entire body shook through an earth-shattering orgasm.  
  
When she came to, Franky was still seated between her legs pressing soft kisses to her sex. Watching her. The attorney smiled sheepishly. “I can’t believe we just fucked on your counselor’s desk.”  
  
Franky stood up and crawled onto the desk on all fours over the ex governor. She leaned down to kiss her. Thoroughly. “Gidget’s not my doctor.”  
  
Erica was confused. _Gidget? I thought her name was Bridget._ “I thought you said you were seeing…” Franky put a finger along Erica’s jaw urging her head left. There, just near her shoulder, was a framed photo of two women kissing. Franky Doyle and Bridget Westfall. _Gidget. Pet name._ “Jesus,” Erica said, closing her eyes. “This isn’t right, Franky.”  
  
Franky kissed her neck. “I know.” She lay down partially on top of Erica. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that to you? Be with you like this?”  
  
The blonde opened her eyes, studying the serious green ones very close to her. “No,” she whispered. Not daring to guess when all this had actually turned from a game into something more. Probably much earlier than Erica had realized, given the reaction she’d just had to Franky’s lovemaking.  
  
Franky kissed her again, and Erica threaded her fingers into Franky’s hair pulling their mouths more tightly together. She didn’t want it to stop. Didn’t want this to stop.  
  
The ex con pulled back only a hair’s breadth so that Erica could feel every word being spoken against her own lips. “Since the first minute I saw you, Erica. I’ve been fucking crazy about you for years.” She kissed her again, guiding the older woman’s hand back into her knickers. “And I swore that if I ever found you again, I wasn’t going to let you get away.”  
  
The attorney gasped at the feel of Franky’s sex against her fingers. _So fucking wet_. “This is a mess,” she said softly, against Franky’s lips, continuing to stroke her.  
  
“Oh god, Erica,” Franky whispered, rocking against her hand. “Don’t stop. That’s so fucking good.”  
  
Nothing could have made Erica stop making love to Franky in that moment. The waves of pleasure washing across her face were the most beautiful Erica had ever seen. And she wanted to see them again. And again. “Come for me, Franky.”  
  
Franky opened her eyes wide, staring into Erica’s just as the orgasm hit her. Hard. She squeezed them closed then, shuddering through the ecstasy, finally collapsing into Erica’s arms. “You aren’t leaving me again,” she said against her lover’s neck. Erica stroked her back, her hair. Franky went up on one elbow and looked down at her. “Say it.”  
  
Erica frowned. _God, she’s still so fucking arrogant. Brash._ “Franky, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve just had a shag on your partner’s desk. This is hardly the beginnings of… anything.” She was getting angry. And she hoped what she was saying wasn’t true, because she could not bear the thought of not having Franky again. Soon.  
  
Franky grinned at her.  
  
Erica was moving quickly past angry to furious. She pushed against her lover trying to get up. Franky held her down.  
  
“Calm down, Erica,” she chuckled. “You really have no idea what’s going on between us, do you?”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, our chemistry is pretty fucking intense, reckon?”  
  
Erica frowned again, the ire receding. Now she was intrigued. What was Franky getting at? “Yes, but that doesn’t mean we are star-crossed. Or even compatible. What’s your point?”  
  
Franky kissed her, lingering, then pushed herself away. She stood and adjusted her clothing then started looking through a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. Erica put her outfit back together and followed Franky to the books. Finally the younger woman selected one and handed it to Erica.  
  
“Take this home. Read it. Then call me.” She watched Erica take in the title. “And don’t get all freaked out. Start with chapter three, then go back and start from the beginning.”  
  
Erica’s eyes were wide. Franky went to Gidget’s desk and pulled one of her business cards out of the holder, wrote her own mobile on the back, and slipped it inside the book.  
  
“Call me, okay?” Erica looked up at her. Franky smiled. Shocked and confused Erica was completely adorable. She kissed the girl quite thoroughly. “Get outta here. I need to clean this mess up and figure out what I’m going to say to my girlfriend.” Erica remained in the same spot, staring at the book. Franky chuckled. “In fact, call me when you get home. Just so I know you didn’t crash on the turnpike.” She guided Erica gently to the reception area, helped her into her duster, opened the outer door for her, and pushed her though.  
  
Erica stumbled down the hall hugging the book close to her chest. She should have put it in her briefcase, but couldn’t make logical thoughts at the moment. The book Franky had given her was, _The Beginners Guide to BDSM._ She managed not to crash into anyone on the way back to her flat and stayed up half the night reading that damn book. And spent the rest of the night in feverish, intensely erotic dreams about Franky Doyle.  
  
The next day, about mid-day, Erica pulled up the text she’d sent to Franky the night before, then dialed the number. Franky answered quickly.  
  
“Franky,” Erica started.  
  
“Hey gorgeous,” Franky’s voice was low, whispered. “Hold on a sec.” There was some scuffling, then Franky’s voice again. “How you going?”  
  
“Where are you?”  
  
“Class.”  
  
“You’re in school?”  
  
“Shyeah. Guess we didn’t do much talking last night,” she could almost hear Erica blushing through the phone. “I finished uni at Wentworth. I’m just starting second year law school.”  
  
Erica’s heart swelled. “Oh god, Franky. I’m so proud of you! That is fantastic!”  
  
“Soooo…”  
  
“Umm, right. Yes,” she replied. This was going to be terribly complicated. But once again, Franky had opened a door for her that was probably going to change her life. The least she could do was walk down it with the right partner this time.  
  
The third chapter of that book was, _The Real Art of the Submissive._ Erica knew Franky was a dom. She’d seen the tattoo. And Franky had told her about it once during one of their more heated tete-a-tete’s while she was still tutoring her back at Wentworth. She wasn’t able to connect the dots at the time, but in retrospect, a sub-dom dynamic between the two of them helped explain a lot of why she felt so fucking out of sorts around Franky all the time back then. And even now. The lack of this was exactly what made her relationship with Sasha 'fairly satisfying' instead of mind-blowing.  
  
“We need to talk more. About that book. Do you have any evenings free this week? Dinner?”  
  
“At your place?” She could practically hear Erica blushing again. “I’ll cook for you.”  
  
“I just bet you will,” Erica replied, saucily. Then added, “Mistress.”  
  
Finis


End file.
